


Of Journeys and Ripples

by moonrunes



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, F/M, he's already dead does that count as major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 19:35:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7983625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrunes/pseuds/moonrunes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-BOTFA. Canon-compliant. Ghost fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts).



Her shoes were worn out.  
They'd worn out weeks ago, holes appearing at the seams and the heels all but falling off, but still, she walked.  
There were times when Tauriel thought that she could still see Kili's smile out of the corner of her eye, or hear a second pair of footsteps beside her own (not light, Elven steps, but heavy, Dwarven ones, sending out echoes into the earth below her feet).  
Whenever she came across Dwarven caravans, they always looked into her eyes (leaf-green meeting granite-grey or sapphire-blue or onyx-brown-and-black) and then they looked just behind her, as if staring into the distance - but whenever she turned, she never saw what they were looking for.  
It took a visit to Lothlorien to her to realize what they saw.  
"Dwarves are not like us," Galadriel told her as they walked by the pool. The hem of her dress brushing against the grass made a soft shhhhh sound, like the waterfalls of Mirkwood, and Tauriel blinked back tears at the sudden memory of her home. Or, rather, her former home.  
"What do you mean?" she asked, feeling very plain with her tarnished daggers (she'd run out of cleaning polish a while ago and orc blood never did good things for any blade, even one of Elven make) and in worn-out boots, next to the great Lady of the Golden Wood.  
"They see things, for Aüle made them to endure - body and spirit." Galadriel looked at her with piercing eyes the color of moonbeams on a lake, and Tauriel felt like she was falling.  
"See what?"  
"Have you heard of Glorfindel?" Galadriel asked her, and Tauriel nodded.  
"The elf lord who lives in Rivendell. I've heard of him. They say he's one of the greatest fighters of the Third Age."  
"He served my cousin, once, in the city of Gondolin." A shadow fell across Galadriel's face, as if remembering a war from a long time ago. "He fell to his death fighting a Balrog of Morgoth."  
Tauriel gasped softly without meaning to. "And he's alive again?"  
"Yes. So it is with elves - but with dwarves…" Galadriel led Tauriel to a winding staircase and they began to climb. "The fate of dwarves is to reside with their Maker until the breaking of the world, when they will help him remake it. But remember, Aüle built them to endure, so they are firm of heart. Sometimes, they will not join their Maker, but remain here, with the living, until they are freed."  
"Freed? If they must be freed to move on, then why do they stay?" Tauriel felt as if she didn't want to know the answer, but the words came, unbidden.  
"No one knows but them," answered Galadriel, stepping onto a platform and looking over the moonlit forest. "I believe that there are many reasons - hatred, jealousy, bitterness, pride, love."  
"What?" Tauriel nearly tripped over the last stair in her haste to reach the balcony, catching herself just in time.  
"Some dwarves will stay because they wish to see their enemies vanquished," mused Galadriel. "Others will stay because their sons and daughters rule, and their pride is such that it will not allow them to leave until their child steps down." The Queen looked at Tauriel, laughter and sadness in her eyes all at once. "And I believe your dwarf prince's spirit remains with you still, out of love, but he is bound up in the souls of his brother and his uncle, for neither will leave without him."  
"Oh." Tauriel felt a sickening lurch in her gut - it was her fault that Kili couldn't join his Maker, nor could his brother or his uncle (the dwarf with the shining gold hair, the King under the Mountain). She only had faint memories of the other two (she'd heard Kili and his brother trading lighthearted banter in Mirkwood, laughing even in prison, she remembered the firestorm and the orc attack and how Fili - that was his name, wasn't it? - protected the children of the Bowman with his everything).  
She didn't think about his uncle, the gold-sickness shining out of everything her soldiers had told her when she'd arrived. She didn't think about Thranduil's icy blockade and how she'd heard the echoes of Thorin's words ringing out over the Woodland Realm ("I would not trust Thranduil, the great king, to honor his word if the end of all days were upon us!").  
"You shouldn't feel guilty."  
Tauriel looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "But it's my fault that he remains here, my lady! If I had never-"  
"Never what?" Galadriel interrupted gently. "Any love is a two-way bridge, daughter of the forest, a bridge that spans culture and race and species." Galadriel looked out over her kingdom again, a small smile playing around her lips as if she was reliving a fond memory. "He chose to love you back, just as his brother and his uncle chose to love him."  
"Is there no way to release him?" asked Tauriel, uncomforted. "To be a wandering spirit - I don't think I would wish that on anyone, least of all him!"  
Galadriel tilted her head. "Even though he chose it? If you release him, you will erase his choice."  
Tauriel opened her mouth to respond, but her brain didn't supply anything. In lieu of a comeback, she sighed and slumped forward, tapping her forehead on the railing.  
"I just don't know what to do, Lady Galadriel." She almost choked on a sob as the words came out of her mouth - Tauriel wondered how Galadriel could live here and simply not care about the outside world; Tauriel felt the pain so deeply she thought her heart would crack in half.  
"I do not," Galadriel said quietly, so softly that Tauriel thought for a second it was the wind in the trees. "I care for the outside world, but I care also for the lives of those in my care - I concern myself with small areas of the world that I can affect, and I would urge you to do the same."  
"Where should I go?" Tauriel asked, only dwelling on the fact that the Lady of Light can read minds (just like Meludir told her!) for a second -  
"Where ever you feel like you must," Galadriel answered. "Stay here as long as you need, then clean your blades and find work to do." She smiled mysteriously, adding, "It may very well be that your prince would appreciate the change in pace as well."  
~~~  
Tauriel left after a week, armed with newly polished daggers, a bow of the Galadhrim, and a sleek silver sword, all courtesy of the Lord and Lady of Lorien. They'd also given her a small bag full of lembas, Elvish waybread (every bite she took filled her eyes with tears of longing - it brought her memories of the guard-station and her soldiers laughing and talking as they exchanged stories) as well as a new pair of boots, for which she was grateful.  
Galadriel had also offered to set Kili's runestone in a silver cage, so that she would not lose it, but Tauriel declined. Better that the stone remain free.  
She traveled north, back to the kingdom of Erebor, even though her heart ached more with every step.  
Dwarf caravans crossed her path more frequently as she traveled, each greeting her respectfully (though most of them with enough ice to freeze the Anduin) and then looking just behind her and inclining their heads just a bit, out of reverence to their (dead) king and princes.  
Tauriel didn't really have a plan, but she wandered north until she stood on a ledge that overlooked the Valley of Dale.  
So much had changed since she'd left last winter. Ravens wheeled overhead, cawing at her (just seeing them brought back memories of Ravenhill - she wondered if they roosted there), carts moved back and forth between Erebor and Dale, both slowly rebuilding their cities.  
She'd thought about going to visit the new king, but decided against it - he was too close to Thranduil. Plus, there was that greasy man who'd been hanging around him last she saw - any interaction with him might send her running for the hills again.  
Instead, her feet took her to the gates of Erebor, shining in the late-afternoon light. Tauriel wished that she could walk up and ask for entrance, presenting herself as an ambassador from the Woodland Realm, but the fear of being turned away made her heart jump and her muscles tense, so she watched the coming-and-goings of the mountain from a small copse of trees a shout away.  
"You're a long way from home."  
Tauriel jumped at the voice, turning and drawing her daggers in one fluid motion. They rang when a sword (dwarven, familiar?) blocked them, locking Tauriel in place.  
The dwarf behind her looked startlingly like Kili, so much so that Tauriel could've sworn she felt her heart break all over again. But this dwarf had blue eyes and a thicker beard, cut short in mourning.  
"Lady Dis?"  
The dwarf nodded, and Tauriel fell into a hasty bow. "My apologies, Lady Dis, I-I didn't mean to-"  
"Calm down," Dis said reassuringly, patting Tauriel's arm with one hand (something about her reminded Tauriel somewhat of Galadriel). "What are you doing here? I don't think I've ever seen you come in with Thranduil, and he's not sending new ambassadors until next month."  
"I actually came to see you," Tauriel blurted, and instantly regretted it, covering her mouth with her hand as if she could shove the words back into her mouth and swallow them.  
Dis' face clouded over. "Are you the elf-lass that Thranduil banished?"  
Tauriel winced. "Yes."  
She waited for Dis to tell her to leave, to run, to never be seen near Erebor again, but instead, Dis smiled and patted Tauriel's arm again. "Then thank you for telling him where he can stick it. It was about time."  
Her eyes turned serious and she added, "If you are the one who stood up to him, then you're also the one that fought so hard to protect my son. Thank you for that."  
"But I wasn't able to save him," whispered Tauriel.  
"You're alive," said Dis quietly. "You saved his memory by living - as long as you walk the earth and tell stories of our dead, he will live."  
Tauriel nodded slowly, unwilling to believe, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out the runestone, handing it to Dis with stiff fingers.  
"He gave this to me." Her voice was rough - from held-back tears or from disuse, Tauriel didn't know. She tried to drop the smooth stone into Dis' palm, but Dis curled her fingers back over it.  
"Keep it." At the sight of Tauriel's furrowed brows, Dis quirked the corner of her mouth in a flash of a smile. "You've more need of it than I."  
"Thank you." Tauriel stood up, bowing again to Dis before disappearing back into the forest. Dis watched her leave, smiling as she felt three very distinct spirits pass her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili died. He never expected to come back.

The pain was sudden and blinding, so much so that Kili closed his eyes and gasped. He had never expected death to feel like this, but this couldn't compare to seeing his brother's body in front of him, eyes wide open as if they could still see the sky.

Kili opened his eyes again, searching for one last look at flaming red hair before-

Ah, yes, there it was.

Not the hair, but the peace.

Oin used to say that the dwarves who were very close to death but then came back would talk sometimes about the peace. Right before a dwarf died, they would feel a great release of all sorrow and pain as they went to join their Maker.

He felt himself rising, but the peaceful ascent was stopped short as he felt a tug on his heart - literally. He looked back, seeing himself (now, where had that orc gotten to?) lying still on the ground.

Oh.

There she was.

Tauriel was crying.

He watched sadly as she hunched over his body and the big, ugly wound in his chest, as if her tears could make it all go away. Kili felt the tug again as he tried to reach out, to comfort her in some way, but his hand passed right through her.

Oh. Okay, then.

He briefly entertained the thought of haunting his uncle or King Thranduil before pushing the thought away, touching his ghostly chest where he felt the pulling.

Nothing there.

Well, there was the usual feeling of ghostly leather and chainmaile, but other than that, there was nothing to suggest why he was still here. Wasn't there a protocol for these things?

Kili looked up and around, searching for whatever wasn't alive (and, therefore, accessible to him). Maybe he could poke her with a dead branch?

No, bad idea.

He felt a breeze pass through his shoulder, like someone was trying to tap him, and he turned around (more out of habit than actually checking if anything was there).

A golden flash, and then his brother was there, gesturing frantically at him and moving his mouth without sound.

Kili's joy at seeing Fili again was quickly tempered by grief as Thorin appeared at Fili's side, looking around with a confused expression that he'd so rarely seen on his uncle's face.

It was terrifying, in all honesty.

But, unfortunately, not more terrifying than when Thorin locked eyes with him.

Rage, fear, grief, sadness, anger, and pain flitted across his features before Thorin reached forward and crushed him in a ghost-hug, pulling Fili in with his left arm. Kili shut his eyes and leaned in, three ghost-dwarves embracing while the corpse of one lay nearby.

"They want to bury him."

Kili looked up when he heard her speak. Her eyes were downcast, but he could see who she was talking to - a glimpse of blond hair in the tunnels of Ravenhill.

Thorin tensed behind him.

"Yes."

Kili was pretty sure that he heard his uncle muttering something about haunting Thranduil. As long as it didn't involve spending eternity in the halls of the Woodland Realm.

"If this is love, I do not want it."

Kili's heart broke. Why? he thought, though he felt like shouting it. Why did I die? She sounded so sad, heartbroken and sobbing and all the things Kili felt like he should be too - not only for the loss of the promise of a life with her, but also for the deaths of his brother and uncle.

"Take it from me, please." She looked up at Thranduil, and Kili caught a glimpse of her eyes - leaf green, full of sorrow, and to his horror, felt his eyes well up too. 

Could ghosts cry?

She looked down again. "Why does it hurt so much?"

Yes, Kili wanted to shout. Why does it hurt, when I know she is alive and is yet able to experience more of this world than I ever got to?

"Because it was real," the elf king answered.

Thorin shifted, and Kili turned to look at him. Thorin touched his heart, signing something to Kili, fingers flying - it's real because we're here still.

Kili's eyes widened, touching the place right above his heart in synch with Fili. His brother signed back to Thorin - what do you mean?

Thorin let off a long, complicated series of signs that Kili only barely managed to catch - we're here because he loves the elf-maid and we love Kili, so we remain with him.

Are there others like us? Fili asked.

Thorin shook his head. I know not. Such a thing like this was a children's tale in Erebor when I was young, but…

He shrugged, as if to say, 'here we are'.

Kili turned back around, brow furrowed, only to see that the elf king had left and been replaced by a contingent of dwarven soldiers - Dain's kin, it looked like. They approached Tauriel warily, as if she might strike at them, bound by loyalty to their prince, but held back by their feud with the elves.

Tauriel looked up, nodding. She stood up and stepped away from the body, and Kili watched himself as he was lifted up and brought back down the mountain on the shoulders of six dwarves.

He felt no desire to follow them - rather, as Tauriel turned, he stepped forward to walk in step with her, feeling his brother and his uncle beside him as the three dead dwarves and the one living elf walked away.

~~~

She stayed in Lorien for a very long time, noted Kili, and he could see why; there was a certain kind of beauty in the treehouses of the Silvan elves.

Lorien made Thorin uneasy, he could tell. While Tauriel slept, they would wander around, hiding behind bushes until they realized that only the Lady of Lorien could even see them, let alone detect who it was that kept spilling the water (Kili swore to Fili that it had been an accident). Galadriel made no attempts to talk to them, for which Kili was grateful. He had followed Tauriel to her conversation, and tried to get her attention multiple times (he regretted tripping her in front of the Lady, but at that point, he had decided that desperate times call for desperate measures), to no avail.

On the way to the Golden Wood, they'd passed a few dwarf caravans, and Kili always had a small pang of shock/awe/fear/wonder when they seemed to look at him, or Thorin, or Fili. He didn't think that they saw the three dwarves, but instead, it was more of a feeling - like the warmth at his shoulder that he'd felt all through his childhood.

When she took her leave of Galadriel, Kili was confused when she went north, up until everyone was crouched in the bush outside of Erebor.

Kili saw his mother before Tauriel noticed, choking on air he couldn't breathe as he stared at his mother, standing silently behind them.

Thorin pulled him by his elbow until they were as far away as they could get without feeling that uncomfortable heart pulling that always seemed to happen if they strayed too far. Kili glanced at Thorin in confusion, but it was Fili who answered his unspoken question - this is for Mother and Tauriel alone, Kili.

Kili nodded, but as Tauriel took her leave, he could not resist stooping down to give his mother a ghostly hug, followed by Fili and then Thorin.

As he followed in Tauriel's footsteps, he glanced back and thought for a moment that she smiled, as if she knew.

Well, Kili supposed that he wouldn't be at all surprised if she did know - after all, mothers knew everything there was to know, right?

~~~

Tauriel went south.

She crossed the Anduin, the Field of Celebrant, walking along the Limlight until she reached the edge of Fangorn Forest, where she stopped under the light of a full moon.

She took the stone out of her pocket, worn even smoother by her hands, letting the light dance over the runes (she'd asked a dwarf caravan what the stone was; labradorite, they'd said).

A stone of transformation.

With one final glance at the sky and her stars, she stepped into the forest and disappeared into the shadows.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Khuzdul translation for aromantic comes from starlightwalking's fic A Toast to Something Else, whereas the Sindarin translation comes from mashing together some words from dragons-inn.org.

Kili decided very quickly that he didn’t like Fangorn Forest.

It was dark, but not in the comforting way that the halls of Erebor were dark - more like the trees were closing in, trying to devour the three dead dwarves. He couldn’t smell, but he could see the piles of mulch and dead leaves engulfing the roots of the trees, and he wanted to gag.

Most of all, there was a very distinct feeling of I don’t belong here, and that was the most unsettling thing of all.

If he’d had feet, he would’ve tripped over them a thousand times - as it was, the most he could do was hover a few lengths above the ground, which was pretty cool, but still. He passed right through the roots of the trees that would’ve caught his boots between them, floating forward like a wayward cloud.

At his side, Fili and Thorin signed to each other in despair - “we’ve not seen the sun in days!” and “Kili, your elf maid is running again, let’s go,” and, in one particularly memorable incident, Fili flinched away from the trees and signed, “Kili, the trees know.”

Tauriel seemed to know where she was going, heading deeper and deeper into the forest (much to their dismay) until all four travelers came to a peaceful clearing, lit by sun with a peaceful brook burbling happily.

She sat down and waited.

Kili, Fili, and Thorin, therefore, had no choice but to wait by her side.

~~~

Tauriel wasn’t entirely sure what she was waiting for.

In the Guard, she’d heard stories of Yavanna Kementari, before the world was made, creating the Ents, the shepherds of the trees to protect her forests from her husband’s dwarves. And even if the legends weren’t true, it was still worth seeing new forests.

She touched the water in the pool idly, wondering if it was safe to drink (probably not). The sunlight warmed her skin after so long under the trees, so she closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree, letting her consciousness fade to the red glow behind her eyelids.

Before she knew it, she was asleep.

~~~

The trees were moving.

Kili watched in horror as the tree which she leaned her head against now creaked, despite the lack of wind, and uncurled roots slowly, growing around her boots and nudging her towards the gap that seemed to lead into the depths of the earth.

He shouted silently and charged forwards, shoving at the roots (of course, he passed right through, but it was worth some effort, at least). Fili hit the tree in frustration and Thorin cursed.

Wake up! Kili tried to shout.

“Tauriel, wake up!”

~~~

“Wake up!”

Tauriel shot upright with a gasp. Who said that? It sounded familiar, but it had been so long…

She looked down with a cry as the roots tightened around her ankles, wrenching them painfully. Forgive me, Yavanna, she thought, and slashed at them with her daggers, then her sword.

It did nothing, the roots creeping up her body, unable to be dissuaded.

Something groaned in the forest, and Tauriel looked up in a panic. No, no, no, not now! Not now, when she was unable to reach her bow!

The tree’s roots tightened around her wrist, pulling her in the dank space between the dirt and the tree. Dead leaves fell in her mouth, and she coughed, crying out in fear.

If she ever saw Meludir again, this was his fault.

A new voice entered, deeper than any she’d ever heard before. “You should not be waking! Eat earth, dig deep, drink water, go to sleep!”

She struggled, the roots growing looser, and sprang out to face whatever new adversary she now had to fight. What could it be, so deep in the forest?

It walked like a Man, but the similarities ended in the shape. It (he? They?) had intelligent, bark-brown eyes and long fingers with moss growing on their head. They peered at her from behind a long, arrowhead-shaped nose and grunted, making the groan she’d heard earlier.

“What are you doing here, Elf-maid? Don’t you know - hroom - that this forest is not for Elves?”

“What are you?” Tauriel demanded. “Who are you to tell me that I do not belong in the forest?”

They regarded her kindly. “I do not tell you that you do not - hroom - belong among the trees. But I do know that the Elves of Lothlorien do not come this far south. What has brought you here, so far from your - hroom - home?”

“The forest is my home.”

“Not this one.”

Something in Tauriel wanted to argue, but she quickly realized that there would be no point. They were right. She did not belong here.

“There have not been travelers here for many - hroom - years,” they continued. “Why are you here?”

“I’ve nowhere else to go,” said Tauriel - though, that wasn’t true (technically); there was still West, and East, but the Southern lands had always fascinated her.

“Fangorn Forest is not for those who do not belong.” The statement should have been exclusionary, but Tauriel felt guilty, as if she’d intruded on something private.

“If you want me to go-“

“I never said you didn’t belong.” The tree-person regarded her with kindly but stern eyes. “You can learn to make this your home, if you so desire.”

“Yes. Yes, I-I so desire.” Tauriel’s heart leaped at the opportunity, and the tree-person gave her what might have been a smile.

“You may call me Treebeard. And since you - hroom - already know not to spill Entwater on the willows, come with me. Your kind has forgotten the ways of the Ents - let me teach you again.”

~~~

She passed years under the trees - at least, to Kili. In reality, he didn’t know how long she (and they) had wandered under the branches of Fangorn Forest.

After the first few expeditions, the three dwarves had given up on trying to follow her places, instead staying at the clearing with Old Man Willow, though a distance away from the tree (usually with wary glances). There was more light in the clearing than in the rest of the forest, but not much to do.

Kili felt as if he was fading, having only roots and leaf mulch to plant his feet on, like being further away from the rock of his home was draining him, pulling him to the Halls of Mahal.

But I must have some unfinished business, he argued with himself, leaning against a tree and staring up, though he could not see the sky. If I have unfinished business, then I cannot fade.

But Fili and Thorin can, whispered the snide voice. The only unfinished business they have is their love for you. They might fade.

No, they won’t, Kili argued childishly, and the voice chuckled darkly.

Kili looked to his left, and then his right, reassuring himself that his brother and his uncle were still here with him.

Yes, Fili’s hair was still distinctive, still visible against the dark of the trees, and Thorin’s silver armaments shone even in death - even though he’d lost that same fur coat under the trees of Mirkwood.

The leaves around them barely rustled in warning as Tauriel came back into the clearing - under the tutelage of Treebeard, her skills had increased hundredfold. Fill had grudgingly admitted, just a few days before, that she could throw knives better than he ever could, and Kili’s heart had shone with pride.

Thorin hadn’t said anything yet (save that Treebeard didn’t even have a beard).

Treebeard himself followed her, his footsteps startling the three dwarves into standing up, backs against the nearest tree (though, for all they knew, the tree behind them could have been another Ent).

“Elf maid.”

Kili was positive that Treebeard had never learned her name.

“I’ve taught you all I can. It is time for you to move on.”

Leaf green eyes stretched wide as Tauriel tried to protest, but Treebeard held up a hand (hand? What classified body parts among Ents?), effectively stopping her protest in its tracks.

“I cannot teach you everything, Elf-maid. You must go and learn of other things, other lands. It would be good for you.”

The ancient being turned and seemed to look at the three dwarves, waiting by the tree. “Good for others too, I think.”

“But where will I go?”

“Wherever your feet take you.” Treebeard gave Tauriel what might have been a smile and she tentatively smiled back.

“Thank you.”

~~~

She went south.

Fili and Thorin were happy to be out of Fangorn Forest, but Kili thought wistfully of the tree cover once they weathered their first storm. The sensation of the wind blowing through his midsection rather than combing out his hair majestically was entirely new, and he wasn’t sure if he was fond of it.

It seemed like she was headed towards the Gap of Rohan, but they passed it (visible off in the distance).

And yet, she traveled south still.

It only took them a few days to be surrounded by horsemen, leveling spears at her (and at her bristling, slightly-more-than-dead dwarves, as Thorin was quite unhappy that one horseman had accidentally stabbed him through the stomach) and questioned as to what she was doing in the lands of the Rohirrim.

And at her answer (for exploring, for knowledge), they grudgingly took her to the King of the Golden Hall.

Theoden King peered at her with sharp eyes - even though he was over fifty by the reckoning of Man, he still had a sort of youthfulness about him. Invisible as he was, Thorin drew himself up and nodded at Theoden in respect - one King to another.

“Why did you come here?”

Tauriel bowed, but remained standing - Kili smiled to see her, still defiant. “Lord, I came only to learn and to explore. I have never been to the South.”

“Learn what? Explore what?”

“Whatever I can.” Tauriel met his eyes, an Elf to a Man. “I seek only understanding.”

A moment stretched out into eternity before Theoden nodded. “You may stay at Edoras for as long as your journey requires, Captain.”

Kili wondered briefly about the rest of the journey - assuming there was one. Mahal, he hoped so. Rohan smelled like horses and Fili had remarked the other day that aforementioned beasts always got spooked when he was around the stables, though they had always liked him in life.

Tauriel flitted out of the hall and he made sure to follow her, paying no mind to the wanderings of the Men once she’d left.

There was a trio of children dueling with wooden swords outside, though the smallest was quickly swept up by a cooing…nanny? Nurse? Kili had no idea, but even he could see that the nanny was strongly against their duel.

Her companions seemed to feel differently, and as Tauriel stopped to watch, Kili listened to the children, remembering Ered Luin - Mahal, that seemed forever ago.

“Please? We need someone else to duel with!” the smaller one on the ground pleaded, and the nanny sighed and gave in, all three children cheering.

“Who are you?” asked the largest of the three, easily distracted from the victory over the nanny.

“I am Tauriel of the Woodland Realm.”

“Oh.” This clearly meant nothing to them, and Kili saw Tauriel stifle a smile before elaborating. “I’m from the North.”

“Are you an Elf?” The nanny’s escapee looked up at her with wide grey eyes, striking despite their youth.

“I am.”

“Cool! Will you teach us how to fight good?” The tallest one swung his sword around enthusiastically, accidentally barking a nearby soldier across the knees. Tauriel’s eyes were the only indication of her laughter as the child apologized.

“Take care, Theodred Prince, that you do not spit someone on the end of that,” the soldier advised with the barest hint of a smile before resuming their position, pillar-straight and staring ahead.

“So you are Theodred,” Tauriel murmured, looking at him curiously. “And you?”

“I’m Eomer,” the second said boldly. “He's my cousin and Eowyn’s my sister.”

“Hi.” Eowyn seemed a bit cowed to see an Elf, and Kili wondered tangentially if it was entirely because of Taruiel’s being an Elf. He’d noticed all the soldiers in the Golden Hall using masculine pronouns (if he was remembering his Common right) and the nanny had seemed all too eager to sweep Eowyn away from her practice.

Wait, was she still talking?

“I will teach you to fight if Theoden King so permits it,” Tauriel was saying, and Thorin watched with an amused grin as the three bowed before running into the hall, dropping their ‘swords’ and tripping over the uneven blocks of the Hall.

“I wonder where their parents are,” Fili mused by Kili’s side.

“At home, perhaps, or out riding,” Thorin said, looking after them majestically - the smile no longer had a home on his face and instead, he looked thoughtful, as if recalling a memory from days past.

The three appeared once again, Theodred dragging the King along by the hand as he chattered, all of it mostly unintelligible to Kili’s ears. Eomer and Eowyn trailed behind, whispering to each other with mirthful gleams in their eyes.

“Can we, Father? Please, please, please?”

“Yes, Uncle, she’s an Elf!”

“Please? From the Woodland Realm and everything!”

Fili chuckled - he liked children and their antics well enough, for a dwarf who’d never wanted to have them. And the three children of the Golden Hall were quite entertaining to watch.

“Very well, if the Captain permits it,” Theoden was saying, looking to Tauriel for her permission; when her head bowed in assent he smiled for the first time, looking down at his son, his niece, and his nephew. “But for now, all three of you were to work in the stables, as Haleth asked you a fortnight ago.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Yes, Father. Until our lesson, Tauriel!” Theodred gave her a cheery wave before sprinting away after his cousins.

“Ah, youth,” the King remarked, watching them go with the faintest of smiles.

“Your son, I assume, Lord?” asked Tauriel, and Theoden nodded.

“And my sister’s children, for she died not long ago.”

“Oh.” Tauriel looked down. “I am sorry.”

“Do not trouble yourself overmuch.” As Theoden turned, Kili caught a glimmer in his eye. “The children are strong of body and heart. That is enough.”

Tauriel nodded as Theoden continued. “Next they come to me begging to be taught, should I tell them to meet you somewhere?”

“Yes, Lord.” Tauriel named a location (the words meaning nothing to Kili, despite having been everywhere she’d been in Rohan - what had her elf eyes seen?) and Theoden nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Lord?”

“Hmm?”

Tauriel turned and fixed him with clear green eyes. “How did you know that I was a Captain?”

Theoden was quiet for so long, Kili thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then the King sighed. “My father, Thengel, had a captain under him - Thorongil, he was called. A great captain he was, but he eventually took his leave of us. I went with him to the borders and beyond, to see what else lay beyond our lands.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” grumbled Fili, and Thorin shushed him as Theoden continued.

“Our party met an Elf, from the Woodland Realm, like yourself, at the Gap of Rohan. We traveled with him for a while and I asked him how things were up north - we so rarely see your kind so far South.”

Kili had a sinking suspicion as to who the Elf was, but Tauriel asked anyways. “What did they say?”

“He said that they had fought a war against the Orcs seeking to take Erebor, and that the state of the Woodland Realm was much unchanged, save for a single Elf who had struck out on her own to explore, as he had.” Theoden snorted. “He was quite a queer fellow, even by the reckoning between our races.”

“Hmm.”

“He did not give us his name, only asked to be called Greenleaf.” Theoden sighed. “Even now, my memory of them grows dim.”

“And you called me Captain because you assumed that I was the one Leg-Greenleaf spoke of.”

“I did. We have seen no other Elves this far south. Was I wrong in this assumption?”

Tauriel paused, and Kili, though he could not see the conflict going on in her mind, could feel it, as if a thunderstorm was on the breeze.

“No.”

Theoden nodded. “Good. Then, Captain, I assume that you will teach the children what they need to know.”

“You assume correctly.” Tauriel bowed stiffly. “Thank you, Lord.”

Theoden nodded and moved away, back towards the hall, and Tauriel descended the steps as her companions floated with her, quietly conversing (despite the fact that no one could hear or see them).

“That went well,” Fili remarked, looking back towards the Golden Hall. His braids shook, and Kili thought he could hear the jingling of the beads before reminding himself that dead dwarves don’t jingle.

“It could have gone worse,” he agreed, but Thorin’s eyebrows were furrowed in that way that indicated a problem that no one else had seen.

“It may yet turn around,” he warned, drifting around a woman (she stopped and stood up straight, no doubt smelling the faint smell of ancient stone that seemed to follow them wherever they went). “Theoden King may still cast her out. The Kings of Men are not like the Dwarven Kings. They are more prone to changing decisions.”

“Still,” Kili said optimistically. “Could be worse.”

“This could not be worse,” Fili grumbled, pulling his coat of around him tighter, as if the chain links would shelter him from the wind blowing through him.

The next dawn had brought rain, in sheets and buckets, with winds ripping across the plains like armies intent on stealing what little warmth the three dwarves had left. Kili found that he did not care for the sensation of being blown through - it was like being walked through, but worse.

Still, the three Rohan children had found Tauriel in the West stables, armed with their rough wooden swords and a desire to learn all they could. She spent an hour teaching them how to stand and how to hold it properly as the dwarves stood by and either tried not to laugh (Kili), scowled at the children whenever they misbehaved (Thorin, though his definition of misbehave cast a wide net) or tried to make friends with the horses (Fili, still).

Kili pretended like he couldn’t see Thorin’s smiles or Fili’s pleading with the bay mare on his left and instead focused on her.

Tauriel was, to put it gently, not entirely suited to being a teacher. She was stern, as if made from twisted steel, but she smiled when Eowyn learned her first block and nodded proudly when Eomer stabbed the air in front of him in a perfect imitation of what she’d spent an hour teaching them.

“Captain, who is that?” Theodred pointed to the spot just behind Tauriel, his eyes meeting Kili’s before flicking to Fili’s barely visible form. “I haven’t met them and they do not look like any who live with us.”

“Yes, Captain!” Eomer turned - he was tall for his age, Kili supposed - almost tall enough to look at Thorin in the eye, though still too young to not quail under his gaze.

“They can see us,” muttered Fili.

“I do not see anyone.” Tauriel smiled slightly, as if humoring them, but the three looked serious. Eowyn laughed, high and bright, like a baby bird calling.

“Captain, that’s silly! Look, they’re right here-“

She stuck a hand out and passed through Kili’s ribcage, frowning when she touched nothing. “Um. I thought-“

Kili waved to catch her attention, her eyes going wide as he pressed his index finger to his mouth in a universal “shhh” sign. Eomer goggled at him as well, with Theodred squinting at him as if discerning a trap.

“Um. Nevermind, Captain,” Eowyn said a little too brightly, springing back into her place and raising her sword again. “Will you teach us more?”

“Not today.” Tauriel held up a hand to stem the inevitable wave of pleas. “It has stopped raining and we have been training for several hours already. Go run around; endurance is important for warriors. Go practice.”

With a chorus of “yes, Captain!”s and one “See you tomorrow!” from Eomer, the children scrambled out of the stable, leaving Tauriel to sit on a hay bale, contemplating her daggers silently.

“Oh, Kili.”

All three dwarves turned towards Tauriel, expressions ranging from curious (Fili) to shocked in a horrified kind of way (Thorin) to hopeful and happy (Kili).

“And - your uncle, Thorin, too.” Tauriel frowned, like she was trying to remember names. “And Fili. Galadriel said you were with us.”

No one moved for a long moment, then Tauriel stood up and dusted hay off of herself. “If you really are going to stay with me, and if the three can truly see you, I would appreciate some help wrangling them,” she muttered under her breath, and Kili’s heart swelled.

Grief did not suit her.

~~~

Years passed.

The Rohan three grew quickly - first Eowyn shooting up like a young sapling (much to her delight and Eomer’s jealousy) then Eomer (both towering over the prince), then Theodred. Their skill grew with them - slashing like Elves, stabbing like Dwarves (thanks to Thorin’s lessons - even as a ghost, he was a formidable teacher), and riding like true Rohan horsemen. Even Eowyn, much to the shock of the ladies of Rohan. Though most of them could handle themselves around a sword well enough, none of them had the skill of she.

And then, the time came. Kili knew it.

Tauriel said her farewells to the few people she knew and Theoden gave her a horse with his thanks. She eyed his new servant warily as he led the horse out (Kili scowled at Wormtongue as he passed - something was wrong with that man) and she rode further south still.

“Hail!”

The Men who had called looked to be brothers - alike in face and in stature, though one wore fine chainmail while the other had only run-of-the-mill leather between him and death. They looked maybe thirty years old, by the reckoning of Men.

“Ah. Fair Elf-Maid, where do you travel to? for we will accompany you if you require protection,” the metal-brother asked, smiling, and his brother nodded.

“I need no protection, thank you.” Tauriel dipped her head respectfully, pulling at the reins of her horse a little bit. “I ride for the White City, and then to Ithilian. I wish to set sail from Osgiliath to the West.”

“Then it is well, for we ride for the city as well,” said the younger, tilting his head and looking pensive. “I am Faramir - this is my brother, Boromir, Captain of the White Tower.”

“I am Tauriel of the Woodland Realm.”

“A pleasure. Would you allow us to accompany anyways, even if you do not need protection?” Boromir seemed genuinely friendly, quite a bit like Fili, Kili mused.

“If you can lead me to the White City,” Tauriel agreed cautiously, eyes darting between the brothers. Kili could almost see her thought process - if they truly cared about each other, she’d only need to take out one if it came to blows, and they were Men.

“Wonderful!” Boromir brought his horse around, riding away quickly and Faramir shrugged at Tauriel. “He’s always like this, if you were wondering.”

Tauriel laughed and rode after him, Faramir riding on behind her at a slower pace. The sun inched across the sky, and before Kili knew it, the three were making camp on the plain, Minas Tirith visible in the distance.

Boromir talked a lot, Kili noticed - Faramir less, content to poke the fire and smile quietly to himself, only occasionally chipping in, usually to clarify something from Boromir’s tales.

“And then I dropped out of the tree, nearly impaling myself on my sword!”

“You didn’t almost impale yourself,” Faramir retorted. “You almost impaled me!”

Tauriel laughed.

“But I did not.” Boromir clapped his little brother (Kili had concluded some time ago that Boromir was the older of the two) on the back. “And you are lucky to have me!”

“Lucky, indeed.” Faramir snorted into his tin cup, produced from a boiled-leather case and quite the opposite of Boromir’s dented flask. “Lucky to not be dead, with the amount of things we tried in our youth.”

“Are you not the sons of the Steward?” Tauriel asked curiously. “Would he not prevent you from doing such things?”

Boromir laughed - just like Fili, he was quick to laughter and, Kili suspected, to anger. Boromir’s laugh, though, was sharp with bitterness.“Our father cared not for Faramir after the death of our mother, and so I snuck away with him, out of meetings and such, to play.”

“He likes you,” Faramir mumbled.

“He would like me more if I desired any of the wives he suggests daily,” retorted Boromir. “But they continue to evade my interest.”

“You do not desire marriage?” Tauriel asked curiously, and at his side, Kili felt Fili stir from his star-watching.

“Nor do I desire any love save the love of my family and friends.” Boromir nodded, smiling confidently, but in his eyes, Kili could see fear - a fear that he’d seen many times before in Fili’s eyes, when he told his family and friends.

“What about you, Tauriel?” asked Faramir swiftly.

“I had a love, but he died.” Tauriel spoke without emotion, but Kili could see the pain, dulled but not faded by more than…what had it been? Sixty years?

Tangentially, Kili wondered about the status of Bilbo Baggins. He’d said he’d been fifty on the journey, so by now, he had to be at least one hundred and ten.

Maybe one hundred eleven.

“We have a word in Sindarin for people who do not desire romantic love,” Tauriel added, seeing Boromir’s troubled eyes. “We say they are avavestale, or without marriage."

Surprise and wonder spread across the Man’s face, and Kili looked to his right to see the same expression in Fili’s eyes, though his face remained stoic. Khuzdul had many different words for that as well - some said bijebtorva, or choosing craft, and others said bin umral, meaning without lover, but Fili had objected to this, saying that umral also meant very close friend.

And, yes, he had plenty of those.

The conversation did not continue long after that, Faramir unwilling to speak and Boromir lost in his own thoughts, and so not long after that, the moon looked down and saw the two men and the elf asleep around a smoldering fire.

Around noon the next day, Minas Tirith had gotten quite a bit closer, this time, Osgiliath appearing on the horizon as well. The brothers bid farewell to Tauriel, Boromir with a smile as wide as a slice of one of the melons that Bofur used to grow in Ered Luin and Faramir with a whispered thanks, on behalf of his brother.

Without them, Tauriel let the horse fly across the plain, bearing her with no difficulty at all as they sped towards Osgiliath. Kili spread out his arms and swooped after them, reveling in the feeling of air whooshing by, his brother and his uncle to his right and his love to the left.

Dead or not, this was still an adventure, and Kili was determined to see it to its end.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHED ON SEPTEMBER 7, 2017.  
> Thank you to everyone who read this, who gave kudos, who commented! I promise I see every one of those and hoard them like a very small, writing-inclined dragon. I'm so happy to give you this conclusion!  
> And, most especially, this is for @starlightwalking! Happy birthday!

Osgiliath was not as grand as Kili expected it to be.  
Minas Tirith shone in the distance, a watchtower facing the East, but though Osgiliath was closer, it was not well-equipped to face whatever dwelt in the East. It wasn’t even a city by Dwarven standards - more like an outpost, a workplace - somewhere to go only during the day.  
Despite all this, Tauriel found a small home of Elves on the southern side of the outpost, willing to send her across the sea, but a creeping worry installed itself in Kili’s mind.  
“Will we be able to travel across the sea with her?” he asked Thorin - though all were long dead, his uncle still seemed wise to Kili, as he’d always believed when he was younger. Thorin, for his part, stroked his shorn beard and stared off into the distance.   
“Open water is no place for dwarves,” Fili grumbled - even as a child, he’d disliked swimming as much as their cat. “I would go with you anywhere, Kili, you know that, but the ocean?”  
“We will be on a boat, and nothing can harm us anyways,” Kili reasoned. “Plus, Fili, it’s an adventure. You can’t say no to that.”  
“I can, and I will.”  
“You cannot.”   
Kili was so surprised to hear his uncle agreeing with him that he goggled at Thorin while he continued. “We are still bound here by Kili’s love for Tauriel and our love for him. We cannot leave him.”  
His uncle smiled. “Kili left on his own for a while is a recipe for disaster, as well.”  
Kili stuck his tongue out at him, and Fili laughed for the first time in nearly a week.   
“That’s true.”  
“It’s not!”  
Tauriel came out of the building the Sea-Elves called their office, halting briefly and cocking her head to one side. Kili held his breath.  
She squinted at the place where the three dwarves hovered before someone called her name, the boat standing ready on the river, the fair-haired elves already crewing it. Kili sighed in disappointment before remembering that he wasn’t actually breathing, at which point he settled for a scowl.  
“Did she almost see us?” asked Fili, cautiously stepping onto the boat.   
“Who can say?” Thorin’s scowl matched Kili as he glared at the elves on the boat.   
Kili followed Fili, less cautiously than his brother, knowing that the boat would not rock under his weight (it was, however, a bit of a surprise when the deck nearly went through his shins). Thorin rolled his eyes and followed.   
The wind was good and as the three dwarves huddled in the stern the boat flew down the river, the crew shouting at each other in Sindarin, giving Kili uncomfortable flashbacks to their capture in Mirkwood - these Sea-Elves sounded nearly the same - only the setting was different, with waves cresting beyond the boat rather than the endless expanse of the forest and the dark-skinned fair-haired Sea-Elves rather than their grumpy Mirkwood kin.  
The ship was not very large, so Kili reasoned later that he should not have been surprised when Tauriel sat down next to him at the stern, watching the others.  
“I wish I could help,” she whispered, so that only her ghostly companions could hear. “But I know nothing of the Sea, as much as I want to learn.”  
Kili did not respond; this was a tenuous connection, if it was there at all. Plus, he wasn’t sure what to say.  
“Our cousins sail,” Fili answered, looking out at the waves. Tauriel didn’t seem to notice him, but he continued speaking anyways. “They said that the Sea is more fickle than the mines, but I doubt that.”  
Kili felt a rush of gratitude to his brother, for trying. After all, what more could he ask?  
“The Sea is so different than the forest,” said Tauriel quietly, looking up at the sky. “The others say that we will reach Tolfalas just a few hours after the sun sets, so we should sleep.” She gave a bitter little laugh. “Can you sleep, Kili? Are you simply trapped between death and life? Do you resent me, our love, for keeping you here?”  
“Of course not,” he protested, but she did not respond, instead leaning back against the barrels behind them and closing her eyes. Kili sat next to her, watching the Sea-Elves, and wished more than anything that she could know.  
~~~  
Tauriel awoke some hours later, eyes opening and looking at the stars before she realized that the stars were moving.   
She got up and stretched, looking over the side of the boat to see the ink-black sea, stars reflected in the water like they were sailing in a second sky. The rocking of the boat made the stars move above them, and Tauriel wobbled across the ship, holding onto railings and ropes when she could and stumbling when she could not.   
She looked over the railing and nearly cried out with alarm - it seemed to her as if a great face lay under their boat, the flimsy-seeming timbers of the ship caught in a Man’s beard.  
His (their?) eyes opened, and they winked at her before the face dissolved into seafoam.  
Tauriel stared into the water for a few more seconds before turning back to the deck and focusing on getting to the other side, preferably without going overboard.  
Although she could not see them, she reached out with her mind, as Galadriel had, feeling for the three always at her back. She supposed that other Elves might find it disturbing, always being followed by three somewhat-departed souls, but she thought it reassuring. After all, they never disturbed her privacy, nor did they seem to wish her any harm, simply watching out for her (and teaching her pupils - she’d turned around once to see Eomer swinging his sword exactly as Kili had when he had still been living).   
She stopped, leaning against the railing, looking out over the sea. The horizon, lit by distant lanterns, was just visible in the distance - Tauriel guessed that to any race save for the Elves, it would be imperceptible.   
“When we reach Eryn Vorn, we will turn to open ocean.” One of the other Elves had appeared at her side, giving her a courteous nod before leaning his elbows against the railing and looking out. “The sea is beautiful, is it not?”  
“It is,” Tauriel agreed absentmindedly, rubbing the runestone in her pocket anxiously.   
After a few more minutes in silence, the other Elf retreated back into the hold, inviting her to join them for the meal later in the evening. She thanked him and was alone again.  
She noticed that some boxes were new - they must have stopped and gotten supplies at Pelagir while she slept. The ocean wind brought the smell of salt and a feeling of both hope and apprehension.  
For the first time since the voyage had begun, Tauriel allowed her mind to wander - at which point, it immediately drifted into her worries.   
Legolas had often teased her about how she worried sometimes - not only for herself, as she should, but for the wellbeing of others as well.   
Would she ever see him again?  
Would she be welcome in the West? Her ancestors had chosen to remain in Middle Earth so many ages ago, but would the Valar still hold her accountable?  
What would become of her dwarves?  
She frowned at the water, though the watery stars were not to blame. When had they become her dwarves?  
No, there was no good answer to that.   
The Elf at the tillar was no more than a shadow against the sky, an Elf-shaped hole in the stars. They did not speak to her and neither did she to them, instead climbing down the stairs to the hold.   
Tauriel wondered if they had packed lembas - it was a jealously guarded secret among different Elf clans and ever since Galadriel’s gift had been spent, she had wanted to taste it one more time.  
~~~  
Even with Elven sight, Tauriel could barely see Eryn Vorn - just a little light in the distance that one of the others reassured her was a lantern set so that no sailors hit the coast.  
The others around her sat up straight, suddenly, and as the sound hit her ears, Tauriel stiffened as well.  
Snatches of song flew on wispy wings across the water, mournful and longing, so feeling that Tauriel felt that her eyes would fill with tears.   
“What is that?”  
“They say it is Maglor,” whispered an Elf sitting on a barrel nearby. “He laments for his brothers, for his father, for the mother he will never see again. He regrets his life, but more than that, he cast a Silmaril into the ocean long ago. He lives with the sorrow still.”  
Tauriel looked out to the coast as the boat turned away from the only home she’d ever known. “I wish you peace,” she whispered, and hoped the wind carried her words to his ears.  
~~~  
“Do you think Elves have friends?”  
The question was absolutely out of nowhere, and Kili stared at his brother in abject horror. “What? Of course they do! You remember the blond elf.”  
“The prince,” Thorin spat.  
“Didn’t you save his life on the river?” Fili asked.  
Thorin snorted, but remained silent.   
“But really, Kee, do you think they have friends?”  
“I don’t think they have friends in the same way that Dwarves do,” Kili answered slowly. “Plus, she’s probably never met anyone else on the ship until today.”  
“Yeah, probably.” Fili stared at the sea mournfully. “Ugh. Do either of you feel sick?”  
“Not really.”  
Thorin didn’t answer, but he looked slightly more transparent than he usually did, so both his nephews took that as an affirmation. Fili groaned. “If I wasn’t dead, I’d be sick to my stomach.”  
Kili was feeling a bit sick as well, but he suspected a separate reason other than the rocking of the boat. Anxiety pounded at his brain, a stark contrast to the calm sea surrounding them.  
What would the West bring?  
From what Kili could glean the few times the Sea-Elves spoke in a language he understood, the West was very much Elf-only. What would happen to the dwarf-spirits then?  
Would they disintegrate the second the boat ran aground?   
Would they simply fade from existence, as if they had never been?  
Logically, Kili expected that Mahal would have something to do with it - during their stay in Mirkwood so long ago, Tauriel had mentioned that the Elves paid mind to a Valar named Aule who seemed quite alike to Mahal, so there was a fair chance that he might dwell in the West.  
But instead of providing answers, the remembrance of the name only brought him more questions. If the Creator lived to the West, why did only Elves get to make the journey? Did it simply take too long for any one Dwarf to travel?  
His thoughts chased each other in circles until the stars blurred before him and he sat down, so deep in the shadows of the barrels that if his uncle or brother had looked over, they’d only had seen a silver outline of the dwarf he had once been.  
Not that they did. Fili was looking at the stars, probably intent on them to try and cure his seasickness, and Thorin was glaring in the distance of the Elf at the tiller. Why, Kili had no idea. It wasn’t like it would actually do anything.  
Unless these Elves could see them as the Lady of Light had.  
Kili groaned and rested his forehead on his knees. All he had ever heard about death made it seem like it was a peaceful release from worldly worries, but this - this was even more complicated than his life had been. Mahal.  
He felt her before he saw her - the warmth of her that matched her fire-red hair. She sat next to him, looking up at the stars (memory, precious and pure, he thought).  
What was she thinking?  
Tauriel reached into her pocket, drawing out a familiar oval object and turning it over and over in her hands, rubbing the deep scratches in a way that seemed to be familiar to her.   
The runestone.  
Tears threatened to escape Kili’s eyes as he watched Tauriel flip the runestone around in her hands. The stone was smoother, grooved in different places than when he’d had it - but the runes themselves remained clear as daylight, the stars shining coldly down and awakening the hidden lights in the stone itself.   
“Tauriel.”  
The stone disappeared into the pocket again as Tauriel looked up at the other Elf - Kili had heard one of the others call them Galdor.   
“It is time.”  
They spoke Common, which Kili found unusual, especially aboard a ship where all the (living) passengers were Elves, anyways - but upon broaching this topic with Fili in whispers as they followed Tauriel to the platform at the prow of the ship, his brother muttered “Kili, they probably don’t even speak the same dialect. It’s like trying to understand the merchants of the Iron Hills.”  
The Elves had gathered at the bow, so many in number that Kili started to fear that the boat would tip and everyone would be lost to the silent, star-speckled sea.   
Was that possible?  
Did boats do that?  
The planks under his feet rocked, and for a second, he thought all his fears were coming true, as his hand passed through the railing in his attempt to hold on.   
Mahal.  
Tauriel gasped, looking over the side, and Kili copied her, eyes widening as he saw what was below.  
The boat had left the water behind, a few ripples the only sign of there ever being a boat, and the company of Elves rose into the sky, carried only by the currents of air below them. Suddenly, the stars didn’t seem so distant.  
Fili whooped, and Kili thought that Thorin would faint, separated from his earth. As for himself, he felt the wind blowing through him rather than combing majestically through his hair, but that was fine. He would soon be among the stars.  
Maybe this was why Dwarves didn’t sail west.  
Not light enough for the ship to lift off.  
~~~  
Tauriel barely held back a gleeful little giggle that would have been more in character for an Elf-child in the roots of the Sylchthoren nursery - the great round room in the Woodland Realm where all children of the Guard spent their days.  
She was sailing among the stars.  
“Not long to Valinor now, mellon,” Galdor said, climbing up on the side of the boat with all the Elven agility that she expected from them.   
“What will we do when we get there?” she asked curiously and they shrugged.   
“Perhaps Finarfin will meet us there,” whispered one of the others excitedly. “Perhaps one of the Valar themselves!”  
The others lost themselves to imagination while Tauriel wandered back towards the stern, tracing the ropes along the rail and fighting the urge to jump up on the railing as Galdor had.   
She laughed at herself, muttering under her breath, “No, Tauriel. Thranduil would call that unseemly for the Captain.”  
“But Thranduil’s not here,” pointed out a familiar voice, and Tauriel whipped around so fast her neck cracked - but she saw no one.  
“Now I’ve lost it,” she grumbled.   
The air did not respond.  
Tauriel stared into space for a second. They were right.  
She hopped up on the railing, arms out to either side, looking out into the universe and giggling.   
Oh, how close the stars were. They were alive, dancing with silver light, and for a moment, Tauriel could believe that they really did hold memories.  
On the horizon, a line of light shone brighter than any other star, and she frowned, squinting. Towers loomed as the ship drew ever closer.  
Memory, precious and pure.  
Valinor.  
~~~  
Kili could not stop himself worrying about Tauriel.   
Although Fili argued it was his fault she was up there in the first place.  
Mahal, how was he supposed to know that she was thinking of balancing on the railing when he’d encouraged her to defy the memory of Thranduil?   
What if she fell off?   
A cough from Thorin drew his attention, and he rushed to stand next to his family at the railing, squinting into the brightness beyond.  
“Where are we?” Fili’s hair reflected the cold light of the stars floating around them like the giant lanterns of Erebor, and Thorin’s scowl was cast into shadow.  
“The Elves call it the West. I know not what it is called in Khuzdul.” Thorin seemed even more displeased than usual, but Kili owed it to the seasickness, not necessarily the Elves that were traveling with them, albeit without their knowledge of the dwarves.  
The boat bumped against the white sand and Kili held his breath.  
Well. No disintegration.   
Fili poked him in the side. “You don’t need to breathe. Holding your breath is pointless.”  
“Oh. Oh, yeah.”  
Galdor jumped off, landing solidly in the sand. They laughed. “Valinor, Valinor!”  
The others soon followed, seemingly renewed from their not-all-that-long journey. The three dwarves hung back as Tauriel made a giant leap, landing with a crunch.  
Immediately, a white light flared to life in front of her, and Kili cried out in alarm.  
“Tauriel!”  
“Kili?”  
She turned, staring at him - at him, not through him.   
To his right, Fili laughed, and Kili looked. His brother was suddenly more solid than he’d seemed before, his mustache glinting with his trademark beads and his hair shining gold once more.  
Next to him, Thorin looked equally similar, though quite a bit more confused - he patted his arm in a confused manner, as if he believed he was dreaming.  
Kili looked down, noting the sudden solidity of his own being, before looking back up at Tauriel, joy filling his heart and seeping out his eyes, it seemed.  
Just behind her, two figures glowed in the light - one being wearing a leather apron and carrying a smithy’s hammer and the other with a feathered cape. They smiled at Kili, and he smiled back.  
He knew who they were, but he could not be bothered to pay them proper mind, not now.   
Kili rocketed down the gangplank, skidding across the sand and hugging Tauriel around the waist, laughing and crying as she stumbled backwards before hugging him back.  
“You’re here.”  
“Of course I’m here.” He pulled back and grinned up at her. “It was a journey. Why would I miss out on that?”


	5. Chapter 4.5

Far away, looking out to the Sea, a murmured message of hope reached an Elf, fingers worn from playing and voice rough from singing.  
Maglor smiled as he looked out to sea.   
“Thank you.”  
Perhaps, he thought, there is hope yet.


End file.
